


Tyranny

by ianthewaiting



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, F/M, Post Hogwarts AU, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianthewaiting/pseuds/ianthewaiting
Summary: Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes. (de Sade) SS/HG AU





	Tyranny

**Tyranny**  
  
  
  
  
  
_Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes._   
-Marquis de Sade  
  
  
  
If he did not know her implicitly, he would have thought that she was enjoying this...   
  
The pale expanse of her back was still slightly pink where he had healed the stripes with a flick of his wand. The blood that had welled up just through the skin and the contusions that had begun to fade from red to black disappeared with that subtle flick of the wrist.  
  
The candlelight illuminated the sinews straining in her shoulders, two slender arms pulled upward and bound by leather cuffs, and forced apart by a wooden rod. With every breath, those muscles quivered and twitched, casting light and shadow over her spine and the flesh stretched over pointed shoulder blades. Her hair was damp with sweat, falling in wavy rivulets over her right shoulder, the tips of the hair teasing the puckered dusky nipple of her right breast. She was panting, her breath hot through the silk gag in her mouth, and tied securely around her face with a delicate green silk knot just at the nape of her neck and under her heavy caramel waves.  
  
He quirked his lips as she tried to stand still on perilously high stiletto heels, only the very tip of the toe of the black leather heels touching the stone floor. If she happened to lean forward too much, she would fall, and if she leaned back too much she knew to feel the full force of the whip, which had terrorized her so only moments before. The skin was finally starting to appear as white as the rest of her alabaster body, but he could faintly see the tiny crisscrossing scars, which served as reminders of a time long ago...and caused by something more painful than a whip.  
  
Humming, he ran his eyes along the bumps of her spine down to the swell of her hips and the beautiful curve of her buttocks...downward to the slight damp glistening between her thighs.  
  
She had enjoyed it, a bit...  
  
...downward to her calves, straining against the leather straps that secured her delicate feet inside her stilettos. He sighed softly, blowing a long strand of hair from his sweaty face. As much as it had pained her, it had almost drained him to put the cat-o'nine-tails to her skin, but as he finally removed his eyes from her luscious body, he turned his attentions to the small plank table to his right, too far out of the line of her vision. Upon the table were several items that he was literally itching to use upon her, but the first thing he lifted into his long tapered fingers was a leather blindfold, fashioned to fit securely over the eyes, molded to sit upon the face like a mask.  
  
Moving to stand behind her, she reacted to the sound of his boots against the stone floor, flinching as he stretched his arms out to either side of her head, slipping the mask to her face, careful not to reveal his identity by lingering to darken her vision, but he was sure that she had seen the Dark Mark on his left arm for she began making loud protesting noises through the gag in her mouth. Tying the blind tightly, he moved his fingers to the knot of the gag, deftly pulling the knot free and letting the damp green silk drop before her.  
  
"Bastard! Death-eating bastard!" she croaked, her mouth dry from screaming from her lashes and from the dry silk that had muffled her cries. At her words, he felt his body react more so than when she had screamed uselessly through her gag.  
  
He did not speak, but felt a bit of relief that now he could move about her more freely, not having to worry that she could see his face. He had wanted to see how she looked from the front, how her breasts jutted from her body as she was forced to stretch so that she could stand. But as she began coughing, involuntarily, he quietly summoned a goblet of water, catching it in his hand and stepping around her. Just as he had expected, her breasts were beautiful when she stood like this...not hunched over a book or cauldron, or hidden under a baggy jumper. They were larger than he had originally pictured in his mind, with small, dusky aureoles and pebble-like nipples. As tempted as he was to grasp one of the globes in his hand, those full breasts were jerking with every cough, and he pressed the rim of the goblet to her lower lip.  
  
"...poison?" was all she managed to get out, but he said nothing. Of course, he could charm his voice to sound different if he liked, but then the atmosphere of fear and uncertainty would be ruined, instead he grasped her hair and tugged so that she was forced to move forward, the metal heels of the stilettos scrapping against the stone. She drank deeply, her ivory throat moving to take in as much as she could before he pulled the goblet away, purposely pouring the cold water between her breasts, causing her to shudder.  
  
Half expecting her to spit at him, he stepped away, but she only groaned, pulling against the leather cuffs attached to the chains that were secured into a wooden beam above her. He glanced at her hands, the tell tale signs of numbness and poor circulation evident by the color of her skin.   
  
He frowned.  
  
Moving back to the small plank table, leaning his hip against the raw wood, he crossed his arms before his chest, his wand in one hand.  
  
With a flick the leather cuffs vanished and she faltered at the sudden loss of balance, but before she could fall on her face or try to use her hand to catch herself, he flicked his wand again. A strap appeared around her neck, a collar with several large silver rings, and from the ring before her throat, a silver chain snaked up from the floor and latched on, pulling her down to her knees. With a well-placed cushioning charm, she did not come to much harm as she knelt on the cold stone floor.  
  
She grunted as her arms were forced back, the elbows bent and nearly touching just over her spine, leather straps magically conjured to bind her arms and hands behind her back. He smirked at his handiwork, glad for his knowledge of the charms and spells that bound her so that she knelt forward, her arms behind her back, her breasts jutting at an even more extreme angle. If he shortened the silver chain that connected her collar to the fixture in the floor, he would have a perfect view of her behind, the pink pucker of her arse and the dark curls of her center, and more than anything he had wanted to spank her.  
  
She had been an annoyance to him, a bossy know-it-all that knew tact about as well as she knew of the pleasures she could be deriving from this experience instead of focusing on the pain by itself. He knew that she was no spring virgin, but he relished the thought that he was the first to treat her to this... Her past encounters had been unschooled and unskilled fumblings, romantic notions of happily ever after and true love...but that had all been a dream for her, and she was intelligent enough to know that...  
  
He had lost himself in thought for a moment, the sound of her voice bringing him out of his internal dialogue and back to the present.  
  
"What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?"  
  
She wanted him to speak, he knew, to judge his position in the room, but he knew better. Let only the sharp taps of his boots against the stone be her clue, and let her fear what could come next... He wanted to tell her exactly what he wanted from her and why he was doing this...he wanted to tell her how wanton she was, and how he could smell her from where he stood as plainly as if he had his face buried in the dark curls at the apex of her thighs.  
  
He said nothing, but flicked his wand to summon a chair from the corner of the candlelit room. The scrape of the wood against the floor made her wince. Positioning the chair so that he sat just at her side, he flicked his wand again, causing the chain that held her down and facing the floor to lengthen.  
  
"What are you..." she began as he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pulled without being too rough and possibly dislocating both arms in one firm pull.  
  
She groaned as she clumsily was lifted and deposited across his lap, the undersides of her breasts resting against the side of his right thigh and the tops of her thighs resting upon his left thigh. Shortening the chain again and tossing his wand to land on the plank table behind him, he ran his left hand over her upraised bottom. She shivered and gritted her teeth at his touch, which was akin to the feather end of a quill being passed over her goose pimpled flesh.  
  
He knew that she knew...  
  
_Whack!_  
  
She screamed in a mixture of pain and surprise, and he tensed his jaw at the gorgeous sight of her skin reddening in the shape of his open hand on her left buttock.  
  
Another soft caress and she moaned, thrashing in his lap. With a snarl, he grabbed the back of her hair and pulled roughly as a warning for her to stay still. The stinging pain of several long strands of hair being pulled out at the root made her stiffen and stay quite immobile. His fingers brushed her skin, the manicured nails scratching slightly downward to the dark pink of her core. A strangled moan passed her lips as with his left hand he teased the sensitive flesh of her inner labia while he held her bound hands in his right hand, forcing her to turn slightly so he could see the clear juices of her forced arousal slide over his fingertips.  
  
Pulling his fingertips away and sucking them in between his lips, he hummed at her taste, his pointed tongue lapping at the nectar on his digits. She whimpered at the deep, vibrating hum from his chest and squirmed slightly.  
  
_Whack!_  
  
The right cheek this time with a bit more force and she bit her lower lip, but could not stifle a cry completely.  
  
_Whack!_   
  
Again on the right cheek and her lip slipped free from her teeth and a soulful wail sounded...like the voice of an angel in ecstasy.  
  
_Whack!_  
  
Again and again, alternating at times, sometimes on only one cheek, she began sobbing in earnest as she felt his chest heaving and the hard flesh of his arousal poke into her ribs. She felt him raise his left hand once more and anticipated another strike, but choked on the tears squeezing from under her blindfold as he thrust two long digits inside her body. He had only thrust his fingers twice when she came with a deafening scream, soaking his hand with hot juices. He smiled, but she would never see that, would she?  
  
Panting, unable to catch her breath, she felt the chain that was forcing her upper body down, loosen and possibly disappear and then the collar about her neck melt away. Still faint from her climax, she could only groan as she felt his arms wrap about her, rolling her body on his lap so that her spasming pussy rested against the tight linen on his breeches. He cradled her in his arms, lifting her as he stood and carried her across the room.  
  
It was only after the euphoric high of her orgasm waned that she felt what seemed like velvet under her bruised and battered bottom. He had set her on the bed, which was tucked on the other end of the room from where he had whipped and spanked her. He could not help but beam at her, very pleased with her response no matter how degraded it would ever make her feel. Caressing her cheek and kissing her damp temple, he steeled his resolve and pushed her to roll onto her stomach on the bed. Turning her lovely flushed face to her left so that she was not bereft of air, she lay quite docile and meek, trying to recover herself to perhaps verbally deride him again.  
  
He did not give her a chance as he kicked off his boots and crawled across the bed, straddling the backs of her thighs, unfastening the tiny black buttons of his trousers so that his swollen prick popped free of the linen confine and stood at an extreme angle from his body. The purplish glans was wet with pre-come, and the pulsing veins along the shaft were quite pronounced as he used his hands to spread her red cheeks, and poke at her puckered flesh with the tip of his cock.  
  
She moaned slightly, her hands twitching between her leather bounds. He quickly felt her fingers, still warm and her hands not bound too tightly. Satisfied he returned to his task of spreading her open for him to sink inside, but he only lightly fingered her tight and puckered bud, and continued to the tight passage that had rewarded him for his efforts earlier. Slowly sliding the fingers of his left hand in, her muscles clenched him tightly. He could not repress a shudder of delight and anticipation at her noise of protest, too tired to speak coherently.  
  
Rubbing his quarry's essence along his prick, he adjusted his stride atop her thighs and positioned himself to sink into her depths.  
  
"Please..." she whispered, and he rolled his hips to only enter her halfway.  
  
She hissed at his intrusion, her muscles too tight to allow him to enter any further. He narrowed his eyes, and silently summoned his wand.  
  
With a quick transition, her arms were pulled upward and secured to the sturdy metal bars of the head posts. With this change, he grabbed one of the pillows and lifted her hips to shove the pillow underneath thus angling her hips for better penetration. She only whimpered, pressing her face into her sweaty forearm. Curving his right arm around her thigh, his fingers brushed her engorged nub of nerves and she choked. It was enough to force his entire length inside with a harsh and crude thrust.  
  
Hands kneading her bruised buttocks, he growled as he pulled back and thrust in again...and again...and again.   
  
In this position, he knew that it would not be long before he filled her with his molten seed, but it felt too wonderful to stop just then. The sound of her sobs, and the wet squelch of her pussy gripping his member, was like music to his ears, and despite his intention not to release before having her in various other crude and vulnerable positions he came with a roar, his nails digging into her hot, swollen bottom.  
  
Pulling quickly back, a spurt of white seed spilled across her back, marking her more beautifully than the silvery scars.  
  
Gasping for breath, eyes wide, he did not lose his erection completely, but it had flagged only slightly. For this, he was thankful. With will alone, he rose from the bed and walked unsteadily across the room to the plank table, snatching up one of the implements that he had planned to use earlier. Slithering out of his clothing and leaving it on the cold floor, he returned to the bed, rolling her onto her back. She was shivering violently, her hands still bound over her head and the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils, he smirked. He had reduced her to a quivering mess...  
  
In a gesture that seemed uncharacteristic, but somehow necessary, he leaned down and claimed her mouth. She squealed against his lips, allowing his tongue to penetrate her much like his prick had...and with a flick of a fingernail against her swollen clit, she moaned into the kiss, her tongue battling his for ownership of her mouth.  
  
Sated with the awkward return of his kiss, he pulled away and crawled over her body, nudging her legs apart so that he could kneel and gaze down at her soaked sex. Running a hand from her throat and down her belly, she swore quietly under her breath, but froze as she heard the jangle of metal. Unable to fend off his touch, she gave out a strangled cry as cold metal clamped down on her right nipple and then the left.  
  
He wanted to laugh aloud at the quivering of her lips and the furrowing of her brow, but he held this laughter as he pulled...the nipple clamps tightening painfully as he pulled on the delicate metal chain that connected ornate clover clips. Repositioning the pillow under her hips to angle them upward, he scooted down the bed, the tip of his damp cock brushing pleasantly against the nap of the velvet beneath him. Two fingers of his left hand wrapped around the long chain, he tugged gently before pressing his mouth to her clit, open to assault by her widely spread legs.  
  
"Oh!" she gasped as his wicked tongue curled around the bundle of nerves as he tugged again on the chain.  
  
She tasted sweet on his tongue as he moved his fingers to pinch her clit to lower his tongue to trace the reddened flesh at the entrance of her juicy passage. Nose pressed against her clit, tongue in her hole and his hands, with the chain wrapped about his fingers, he pressed down on her hips to keep her from bucking too roughly against his mouth. She thrashed her head from side to side as she began to come apart, and he pulled his face away, tugging on the chain to find the third end...and the third and smaller clamp. Just before she came, he clamped her clit as well...and as she bucked she alternately tightened the clamps attached to the delicate silver chain forming a 'Y' over her ivory skin.  
  
He watched her fall apart, piece-by-piece, no longer needing to manually stimulate her to see such a wondrous sight. Just seeing her buck and strain had him hard again, and grasping her hips he penetrated her deeply and soundly. The pace was hard, fast and deep...and he moaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Jerking on the chain, she arched off the bed as far as she could with her hands still bound and tied to the bed.  
  
Perhaps it was his ever-growing fondness for her...perhaps something else...but he wandlessly unwound the straps from the bed, but left her hands bound, pulling them forward so that he could hook them about his neck. It was an imitation of personal intimacy, he knew...but did not care. She was gasping in time with his thrusts and would occasionally stop her breath to let her muscles grip him like a vice and then let go for only a second or two. He groaned and snaked his right hand out to wrap his long fingers about her throat.  
  
She had only enough time to take a somewhat proper breath before he stopped her from breathing all together. Banging on his wide shoulders with her wrists, he slowly let go only to allow her to take another three breaths before constricting her breathing again. He groaned, and nipped at her nose as this sudden constriction of her breathing caused delicious sensations to pass through her body and into his. He did not want to strangle her to death so he released his hold momentarily after a few thrusts. With every reprieve she would gasp and cry for air, her face flushing slightly, but finally he could not concentrate, and pulled his hand away to wrap his whole arm around her shoulders so that he had more leverage to thrust into her deeper and more roughly.  
  
Pulling her so close that he wanted to be one body, he sank his teeth into her shoulder as he came, stifling his unadulterated cry of completion, but his voice was drowned out by her cry...deafening him as he felt his cock twitch with every bit of seed that filled her with such force and quantity that he could feel it seep out of her passage and between their bodies.  
  
He collapsed on her, too exhausted and sated to move or pull his aching and spent cock out of her warm and yielding body, and thus he fell asleep, a smile on his face that would charm the devil himself.  
  
  


 

  
* * *

 

  
  
  
  
Severus Snape was roused from his stupor-laden sleep by a hot cavernous mouth swallowing at his sore and semi-erect cock. He felt as if he had been attacked by a Hippogriff, again...and his hips hurt horribly. As much as he generally liked a bit of oral action as a wake up call, that morning was just not the morning for it at all...  
  
"Wife...stop that."  
  
A muffled response, literally of 'cock in mouth,' came from under the dark green velvet duvet over his sallow skinned body. He noticed the dried white stains on the duvet and sighed, thinking that he would have to get Pimsy, their only house-elf, to come into the room to clean, as much as the poor elf feared this particular room.  
  
A cool hand wrapping around his balls made him jump, and with a snarl he threw the duvet back to meet the amber-brown eyes of his wife of twelve years.  
  
"Hermione, really...he isn't going to rise from the dead!" Severus snarled in that authoritative 'I'm the Potions Master' voice. The thing was... _she_ was a Potions Mistress, so his tone of voice had little affect, but Hermione Snape let her husband's burgeoning erection slip from her mouth with an audible 'pop.' Gazing up at her husband's pale chest to meet his eyes, she tried to seem as innocent has possible.  
  
"Good morning, husband."  
  
"Aren't you in the least bit sore? Tired? And/or satiated?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, and crawled up her husband's body to press her warm, damp center against his erection. "I thought it would be nice to repay you a bit for last night."  
  
Severus sighed and threw a hand over his eyes. "You have five more months to properly do that, Hermione."  
  
Hermione leaned down and rested her head above her husband's heart. "I know...but it will be five whole months before we can run wild in this room...not to mention Hadrian will be home for extended holiday on your birthday, and I think he is starting to figure out the wards that seal this room."  
  
"He has been warned not to tamper with the wards...and he is still underage, no amount of wandless ability will disable these wards," Severus muttered, imaging his twelve year old, second-year Slytherin son finding this hedonistic den of sin that the boy's parents kept in the cellar of their small Italian villa. As much as Hermione enjoyed having Hadrian home from Britain, Severus was glad the raven haired, amber-eyed boy was away at Hogwarts for another year.  
  
A comfortable silence fell between husband and wife, one thinking about peace, quiet and sleep, the other thinking about frigging themselves to completion.  
  
"Later..." Severus whispered, half way along the path to sleep again.  
  
Hermione huffed, and rolled off her husband to lie on her back looking at the various hooks and chains hanging above the full sized, spartan-esque bed. Twelve years...twenty-six visits to this room (twice for of special occasions plus twenty four times accounting for two birthdays every year...) and still Hermione relished in the fact that her husband would offer up his comfort and precious sleep to pleasure her the way she wanted...at least for her birthday.  
  
In the past, it had been difficult to gauge each other's deepest desires, but after twelve years, Hermione could not see where their tastes and desires were as 'base' as they first thought... Granted, Hermione's interest in bondage and sexual torture had startled Severus, but in a positive way. They trusted each other implicitly and knew each other's boundaries. There were set safe words, and only once was it ever uttered...by Hermione.  
  
Severus was always the dominant party, always, and Hermione would have it no other way.   
  
He was a tyrant inside and outside the bedroom, but a loving tyrant nonetheless.  
  
  
  
~Fin.

 

 

 

 


End file.
